


Safe House, Safe Now

by mharris



Series: JonMartin Angry Toddler Nap Hour [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Asexual Character, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nap fic, Safe house fic, bullying your assistant into taking naps, kind of, that's right my turn to take a stab at it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25265824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mharris/pseuds/mharris
Summary: This is a fic about Jon making Martin rest after their harried escape from the Lonely. Please enjoy these emotionally stunted men trying to be less of that.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood
Series: JonMartin Angry Toddler Nap Hour [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1830448
Comments: 7
Kudos: 151





	Safe House, Safe Now

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel! You don't need to read the first to read this one, but honestly why wouldn't you? Not as much fluff as the last one, but still fluffed like cream puff baby.

The safe house was less of a safe house and more of a shed that someone thought they could renovate into a living space. As such, most basic amenities were brought in through duct tape and sheer will. The faucet ran water— in fits and bursts. The sink drained— if you were patient enough. The toilet made a very concerning sound and there was no heating source or aircon. 

“Could be worse,” Jon said, dredging up cheeriness from somewhere.

“Name one way in which it could be worse,” Martin said.

Jon mused a second. “It could have the kind of hideous old wallpaper that has asbestos in it,” he said.

Martin made a non committal noise, “Never thought I’d be thankful for white washed walls.” 

Jon put his bag down on the table that, from its positioning, served as a kitchen table, entryway table, and coffee table all in one. He put his hands on his hips and pursed his lips.

“I guess it has that rustic charm,” Jon tried. “Reminds me of college.”

Martin laughed in a way that sounded like a sigh, and Jon turned to it, caught by the sound.

“Rustic charm is nice,” Martin said, voice far away.

Jon put his hand on Martin’s shoulder where his bag hung heavy. He touched at the edge of the strap.

“The ride was long, you should rest,” Jon said, softly.

Martin smiled and put his hand over Jon’s, “No.”

Without waiting for a response, Martin moved away to set his bag down on the couch that looked both forty years old and in pristine condition. 

“Gotta get settled in, you know. See what we have, take stock, you know. Things," Martin said.

“I-I think a nap could do?” Jon said but also asked because Martin hadn’t slept in he doesn’t know how long, certainly not on the train ride here.

“I think a cup of tea could do,” Martin said. “If only there’s tea.”

He opened a cupboard and stared into its depths for a moment before shutting it and moving onto another one.

“No tea, but there is a gun.”

“Good ol’ Daisy,” Jon said, at a loss watching Martin toss about the tiny kitchenette. 

“We’ll have to go into town, get a few things, we should make a list.”

This wasn’t going as planned. Jon had thoughts about long hours spent in a soft bed together. A thought occurred to him and he left Martin for one of the two doors on the other side of the small house. One was a bathroom, moderately equipped with simple fixtures and unadorned cabinetry. The second was the bedroom that Jon was instantly relieved to find did in fact have a bed, and a pretty large one at that. 

“What do you like on your sandwiches?” Martin called from the kitchen.

Jon tested the springiness with his hand. 

“Uh, standard stuff?” Jon said, bemused. 

He tested the softness of it by sitting on it, and bouncing a little.

“What do you classify as standard stuff?” Martin asked, his voice getting closer, “What does one even eat on the run? Maybe we shouldn’t do sandwiches.”

“I’m surprised Daisy didn’t leave packs of, whatsit, rations or whatever,” Jon said.

Martin poked his head through the door, “Oh she did but those are gross,” he said.

Jon looked up at Martin and Martin looked back at Jon. Jon softly pat the bed next to him, and Martin huffed. 

“Cereals? I can pick up some oatmeal.” Martin said. “Of course this all depends on what the local market actually has, and I’m sure there is a local market even though we did not see one on our way through the first time.”

“Maybe Daisy wants us to fend for ourselves and hunt our own meals,” Jon said with a low laugh.

He made eye contact with Martin who grimaced. Jon returned the look with a frown.

“That was bad taste, wasn’t it?” Jon asked.

“Probably,” Martin said. “Considering,”

“Considering,” Jon agreed. 

Martin held up a square of folded paper and a pencil he procured from somewhere in a menacing manner. 

“We should probably stock up on supplies, Jon,” he said.

"Well, I mean, yes, I do suppose so," Jon said.

Martin nodded and immediately moved away.

"Wait, I think we should probably rest first," Jon said, following Martin.

"I think we should make a list of things to get, so we only have to leave once," Martin said. "That means figuring out what we already have, so, start opening drawers and such."

"Martin," Jon said.

"Jon," Martin said.

Jon put his hands on his hips and watched as Martin took his little folded paper and started making notes. 

"Do the bathroom, if you're just gonna stand there," Martin said.

Jon sighed, and went back to the bathroom. He opened a cabinet to find stacks of boxes with bandages and gauze and what looked like several suture kits. He closed the cabinet when he spotted something that brought the phrase "bone saw" unbidden to his mind. He opened another cabinet and found towels. 

No toiletries, but toilet paper. No shower curtain, but a single bar of soap. Jon was going to have a conversation with Daisy about how she stocked her safe houses when this was all over. If it was ever over. If he found her again. A sudden and great weariness rose up within him then, and he longed very acutely for something he didn't quite know how to name yet, but had an inkling for.

Jon found Martin at the coffee/entry/kitchen table, scribbling at his sheet of paper. He didn't look up when Jon approached, but leaned into Jon's touch.

"How's the bathroom?" Martin asked.

"We'll need shampoo and such, toothpaste and brushes," Jon said, resting his head on Martin's shoulder. "Simple things."

"Good, the less we buy the less suspicious we are," Martin said, and began to add the items to the list.

"We can shop after a nap, I think," Jon said.

“There’s too much to do, Jon,” Martin said, not looking at him.

“Sure, sure,” Jon said. “Is one of those things not thinking about what you just went through? Because I feel like that’s what you’re actually doing.”

Martin made a particular noise that sounded a bit like harumph.

Jon sighed and stood up fully, then came around Martin to put his hand over the list Martin was staring at more than writing.

“There’s organizing to do,” Martin said. “There’s airing out the house, cleaning it, we have to- to sweep and knock the dust out of rugs or whatever it is the old mothers used to do back in the day. I for one would love to see what Daisy has here in terms of non food related supplies, have to catalog that, you know.”

“And that can be done, and done better, after a nap,” Jon said.

“You sure?” Martin said. “It’s much better to just get it all done now, all at once, and rest once we’re done.”

“I disagree,” Jon said.

“Mmmm,” Martin said, and weakly tugged at the paper a bit.

Jon took the pencil from Martin's grip and set it gently on the table.

“Just a nap,” Jon said, voice soft. 

“I think, I don’t know about—” 

Jon poked Martin in the side, and began to badger him out of his seat.

“Jon,” Martin protested.

“Martin,” Jon said.

“But, the list,” Martin said.

“And the list will still be there when we wake,” Jon said.

Martin stopped. “W-we?”

Jon put his hands on Martin’s chest and took a deep breath. 

“We’re in this together,” Jon said.

“Naps too?” Martin asked, voice light. 

“Naps too,” Jon said.

Martin looked away briefly, pursing his lips.

“A short one,” Martin said.

“A short one,” Jon agreed, “and then I’ll show you the small field hospital’s worth of med supplies Daisy left here.”

Jon gave Martin a gentle push, and then another, crowding him into the bedroom. Jon pulled off the top blanket and gave it a shake as Martin removed his shoes, and pulled his sweater off over his head. 

“Blanket?” Jon asked softly.

“Nah,” Martin answered.

Jon gave the blanket a rough fold and tossed it into the corner, climbing immediately onto the bed. He knocked his shoes off, pulled his glasses off and placed them on the table beside the bed, and then pulled at Martin’s arm. Martin sighed, and laid down next to him.

Jon watched Martin struggle with one of the only two pillows, then sigh and settle in. Martin closed his eyes in a manner that suggested he was defying something to do so.

Jon waited a moment before poking at the wrinkle between Martin’s eyebrows.

“Most people aren’t concentrating when they sleep,” Jon said.

Martin grumbled.

“You’re supposed to be relaxing,” Jon said.

Martin sighed.

“Stop thinking about things,” Jon said.

“How am I supposed to relax when you won’t be quiet?” Martin asked, not opening his eyes.

“I don’t think you’re trying hard enough,” Jon said, a smile creeping into his voice.

“I’ll just have to try harder,” Martin said, and furrowed his brow.

Jon laughed softly, and gave another tug to Martin’s arm. 

“Come on,” he said.

“Wh—”

Jon pulled Martin, who resisted at first, then finally gave in, until he was resting on top of Jon. Jon interlaced his fingers across Martin’s back, and Martin let out a heavy breath into Jon’s neck.

"Jon," Martin said.

"The cottage won't get any dirtier while we sleep," Jon said, "and the Eye won't stop watching us either. But I'll be damned if I let even one more entity take anything else from me, even if it's just this one moment of peace."

Martin was still for a time while they breathed in tandem into the quiet of the room. 

"Thank you for coming for me," Martin whispered.

"There was nothing else to do but that," Jon whispered back.

It was as if that was the permission Martin was waiting for to finally let go. Jon could feel the tension in Martin's shoulders melting under his hands, the softness and pliability returning like a wave. Jon rubbed small circles across Martin’s shoulders and down his spine, chasing the feeling, encouraging in his ministrations . It was like a great weight had been taken from Martin– his back unbowed and his muscles unknit. Martin sank like water, filling the space around him.

Jon welcomed the weight. A concrete point in which he could prove Martin was real and was there with him and was okay. In turn Jon hoped his arms encircling Martin were just as welcome a touch. Grounding, grounded, here. Home. 

Jon counted Martin’s breaths as they deepened. His hands slowed. His eyelids drooped. Then they were asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a third one. It will 99.99% likely be set after the podcast finishes either as a fun fluff piece or a fix it fic depending on what Mr Alexander J Newall does with my heart. Thank you for reading. I love you.
> 
> (Feel free to find me on [tumblr](https://sauntering-vaguely-downwards.tumblr.com/about))


End file.
